


A Little Fall Of Rain

by BarricadeButterfly



Series: My Enjoltaire One Shots [1]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Canon Era, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Les Amis de l'ABC - Freeform, M/M, Male Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:26:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26515165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarricadeButterfly/pseuds/BarricadeButterfly
Summary: Enjolras and Grantaire set in a Canon Era but with "modern" dialogue.Basically, a rainy night, a quarrel and a first kiss...
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Series: My Enjoltaire One Shots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1927930
Comments: 5
Kudos: 49





	A Little Fall Of Rain

Grantaire awoke to darkness and a dull thumping in his head, as if the inside of his skull was being used as a drum. Bleary eyes flickered open and he raised his head from where it had sunk onto the table top when he had passed out. The darkness of the empty room swam before him.

What time was it? Sleepily, he rubbed his eyes and looked up at the window of the top room of the café Musain. Soft white moonlight was cascading into the room, throwing shadows across the floor and the empty tables. It had to be late now. As usual, everyone else had left and not bothered to wake him. Why would they? He wasn't part of their big plans for the revolution; he wasn't part of anything. They knew how cynical he was and how useless it was to include him. If it couldn't be found at the bottom of a bottle then it wasn't going to hold his attention; or so they all believed. He was tolerated by the group; at the most a source of entertainment; but never taken seriously, not by his friends, not by himself and not by the one person who meant more to him than anyone in the world.

Slowly, he raised himself up from his chair and stumbled over to the window, gazing down at the street below. A light rain was falling gently and the street shone with it. The vision began to settle and he raised a weary hand to rub his forehead. The drum was still pounding behind his temples and his mouth felt as dry as sandpaper. As his memories of the evening collected themselves into some sort of order, he felt the old flash of panic return. Oh hell, had he said or done anything stupid in front of 'him'? It was all still a blur but beneath it all, Grantaire knew there was no reason to panic. When did Enjolras ever listen to him anyway?

Swallowing back the familiar ache of despair, he took a deep breath and turned to leave.

And that was when he saw him.

At first, Grantaire simply mistook the shadow in the corner for yet another of his haunting daydreams chasing him about every waking minute of his daily life and narrating his sleep with stories of yearning that he knew would never be. Hell, he couldn't even close his eyes without seeing a perfect image of the man he loved so fervently painted on the inside of his eye lids. Grantaire was used to seeing the bittersweet image wherever he went. It was only now, when the shadow moved and the light caught those beautiful deep eyes staring at him that he stopped and gave a start.

"Holy shit Enj, you scared the hell out of me!" Grantaire exclaimed, his voice coming in shaky breaths as he steadied himself with a hand on his chest.

Enjolras stood and slid the chair aside with his foot.

"Sorry R," he said with a grin. "I thought you were going to be here all night. You drank so much."

Grantaire flinched with shame and was glad it was too dark for his companion to see the flush of heat that had rushed to his face.

"Yeah, well... you know me," he said, avoiding Enjolras's stare until a sudden thought occurred to him and curiosity made him look directly into the eyes that were watching him from across the room. "Hang on... you thought I would be here all night? Why are you still here?"

Enjolras frowned as if the question was pointless. "I wasn't going to leave you alone, was I? Not in the state you were in."

Grantaire's heart leaped in his chest but he breathed deeply and said "You didn't need to do that. I would have been fine. I always am."

"You're not fine, R, and you know you're not," said Enjolras. He had not meant for the words to sound so critical and heartless but it seemed like a natural gift he had when it came to Grantaire! Even in the dim moonlight, he could see the offense etched in Grantaire's expression. He laughed to show he meant no harm and said "Come on, lets get you out of here.”

They descended the stairs in silence and at the door, Enjolras paused and fumbled in his pocket for the key Madame Houcheloup had entrusted to him shortly after the Le Amis de l’ABC had begun gathering in the room above, whether as recognition of his leadership and therefore reliability and trustworthiness or a subtle nod of approval to the talk of the revolution that hummed within those walls. Either way, Enjolras had rarely needed to use it.

On this night, he turned the key in the lock and swung the door open onto the Rue des Gres. The street was empty and two sets of footsteps echoed as he led Grantaire out into the night.

“I’ll walk you home,” said Enjolras.

It was more a statement than an offer and Grantaire was eager as ever for any precious time with this man, yet he was also mindful of not appearing anymore needy and pathetic than he already did. It was no secret that such character flaws were not revered and barely tolerable in the proud mind of his companion.

With as much self-respect as he could muster, Grantaire drew his shoulders back, the soft rain instantly collecting in the creases of his collar, and said “No need for that. It’s not far and the fresh air has woken me up.”

“R, please don’t make a fuss, it’s too late in the day and I’m tired. Lets just go, shall we?” said Enjolras, already striding out in front of him.

Grantaire walked a few dutiful steps and stopped. “Look, you’ll be going far out of your way and I’ve told you, I’m fine now. I am not a child, Enj. I don’t need a nurse.” As he said the words he could hear the frustration in his voice and hoped it was enough to cover his embarrassment. Neither emotion was particularly welcome, he knew, but the latter was the hardest to bear.

“Just walk with me, R, for gods sake. The guys will never forgive me if anything happens to you,” Enjolras called over his shoulder as he strode but stopped when the sound of footsteps failed to follow and turned around to face his stubborn companion. “R?”

Grantaire was stopped in his tracks by the weighty blow of invisible pain that had struck him in the stomach at Enjolras’s words. “That’s why you waited for me? Did Courfeyrac ask you to?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

Enjolras hesitated for just a moment. “He might have said something about not leaving you alone in that state, yeah.”

“Well that’s a first, I guess.”

“What is?”

“You taking orders from someone else,” said Grantaire, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice.

In that moment, it was too much to look at Enjolras. The pain of being without him was not new to Grantaire and neither was the pain of knowing he had disappointed him yet again; hell he was more than used to being overlooked by the man who meant so much to him, but knowing he was acting now out of loyalty to his friends and not genuine concern was too much to stand. He felt the hotness as his eyes filled with tears and was glad of the darkness and the rain as he turned his back on Enjolras and began to walk away.

“Come on, don’t be like that,” Enjolras called as he turned back to follow him. “I didn’t mind one bit. I had plenty of work to do to keep me busy anyway. Grantaire! Will you please slow down?”

Everything stung as Grantaire stepped out across the street, pulling his collar up against the rain and trying to guard himself from the oppressive feeling of being so viciously exposed by his own pain.

Enjolras’s voice was close when he spoke. “Goddamn it, do you have to make a drama out of everything?”

It was too much and the anger flooded Grantaire’s body with heat as he swivelled round to face Enjolras and said “That’s rich, coming from you! All you care about is your bloody revolution! You shove it down our throats every waking second of the day and you talk about nothing else, like it’s the damn end of the world or something, so don’t talk to me about who’s being dramatic!”

Stunned by the outburst, Enjolras was silent and didn’t move as Grantaire turned his back on him once more and began to pick up the pace.

“At least I have purpose and direction… and not just to the bottom of a bottle!” called Enjolras, still rooted to the spot. “At least I believe in something! What do you believe in? Nothing!”

Grantaire’s steps came to a halt and he walked back quickly and quietly until he was face to face with Enjolras. He shook his head sadly and said “I’ll tell you what I believe in, you blind idiot. I believe in you.”

There was a moment then when neither of them moved and neither spoke for a time that felt longer in the silence than it possibly could have been. The rain that had been falling softly up until now was steadily getting heavier and was the only sound to be heard in the dark and empty street. Grantaire made the mistake of being caught by the deep blue eyes that were staring at him through the wet tendrils of blonde curls that were dripping water onto Enjolras’s face. He was winded by the beauty of this amazing, strong, passionate, brave man who seemed to know everything about everyone apart from the blindingly obvious that was staring back at him right now. Grantaire felt his stomach jolt with panic; had he said too much? Had he given away his long and lovingly guarded secret? It was hard to read the expression on Enjolras’s face for he couldn’t observe it without being instantly lost in the overwhelming beauty of his clear soft skin, the depth of his eyes, the way his hair sprung into tighter curls about his face in the onslaught of the rain, the firm line of his jaw and the soft stubble that nestled along it, the shadow of the dimple in his chin, the little creases around his full mouth and the shape of the soft lips that framed it and were now slightly parted and shining under the glow of the rain soaked moonlight. To be so tantalizingly close was too much for Grantaire and he forced his eyes away from the gaze as he dropped his head and turned once more to leave.

Without a single word, Enjolras reacted instantly, catching Grantaire’s arm with a firm hand and pulling him back around to face him once more. Before either of them knew what was happening, their mouths met in a moment of spontaneity when the earth itself seemed to stop spinning. Grantaire staggered backwards a little with the force of Enjolras upon him but found that rather than being released, the grip on his arms only tightened and he felt himself being pulled up against the strong chest of the man who was clinging to him with the same passionate desperation as his endless kiss.

Without warning, it ended as suddenly as it had begun and Enjolras released him, taking a shaky step backwards as one trembling hand covered his mouth. Through the cover of his hand, his voice was barely a whisper. “Oh god…”

Grantaire moved quickly now for there was no time to think and no time to try and stop himself. After suppressing his feelings for so long, he was fighting a losing battle now to contain them. In less than a second, he had drawn his companion into his arms and found his mouth again with ease. Guided by himself this time, the kisses were controlled and gentle. He wanted to drink in every drop of the experience, wanted to savour the feeling of the solidness of Enjolras’s body pressed against his own, the quick drumming of his heart beat, the smell of the rain on his skin and the feel of his warm curious tongue as it explored his own. He wanted to cry out with joy as he felt Enjolras’s arms slide around his waist and cling to him. Feeling his confidence return, Grantaire held him close with one steady arm and a strong hand, while the other moved to cradle the back of his head, his fingers becoming willingly tangled in the soft wet curls.

The taste of his mouth was exquisite and the intoxicating scent of his skin was driving Grantaire wild with desire. He could feel the long suppressed love and passion that he had nurtured for this man boiling up inside him like a volcano that was ready to erupt any second. With gentle but determined force, he guided Enjolras backwards until his back was pressed against the flanking brick wall that lined the street and cast a blanketing shadow over their figures. To Grantaire it hardly mattered who observed them; quite apart from being brimming over with pride to be wrapped in Enjolras’s arms, he wanted him so badly that he happily would have torn his clothes off right there in the middle of the street, but he also didn’t want to compromise the dignity of the man he loved. He held much more respect for him than that. Under the cover of shadows, however, he felt less compelled to behave. The yearning for Enjolras was clawing at his insides; a beast clamouring for release.

Leaning against the wall for support, Enjolras raised his hands to cup Grantaire’s face and drew away from their frantic kissing long enough to behold him with searching eyes, to pull much needed but trembling full breaths of air into his lungs and to find, with some difficulty, his voice. “R… what are we doing?”

“Shh,” Grantaire soothed as he leant close enough to kiss him again. Between soft grazing kisses on Enjolras’s welcoming lips, he whispered “It’s OK.”

“No… I promised myself I wouldn’t do this.”

His words interrupted the flow of Grantaire’s kisses. “You promised you wouldn’t do what?”

Enjolras bit his lip coyly and grinned. “Well… you.”

A similar smile formed on Grantaire’s face and he drew back his head to hold Enjolras’s gaze with his full attention. “You haven’t yet.”

Grantaire kept his eyes fixed on those of his companion as he wordlessly stroked one hand down over the buttons of Enjolras’s jacket, feeling the movement of his chest beneath it and lingering for a moment over the small tantalizing gap where his stomach met his waistband. Then, with a firm but tender touch, he enclosed his hand around the mass of warm hardness that was straining against the leg of his companion’s trousers. A small gasp of longing escaped in a sudden breath from Enjolras as his eyes fluttered close and he seemed to melt back even further into the wall, his head tilted up and the rain dripping slowly from his chin. Grantaire leaned into him and pressed his lips against the exposed neck as he continued to move his hand in teasingly slow controlled movements. It was only when his fingers found the buttons and began prizing them open that Enjolras grabbed his hand to stop him.

“No, I can’t.”

It was pointless saying that he didn’t want to because it would have been an obvious lie and now that blissful truth had made itself known to Grantaire, he felt a new confidence that had hitherto been missing. He released his grip on Enjolras and moved his hand up to rest against his face instead. Enjolras closed his eyes for a brief moment of weakness as he nuzzled his cheek into the warmth of Grantaire’s palm but quickly gathered himself again.

There was only sincere care in Grantaire’s voice when he spoke. “Why are you fighting this?”

“That’s what I do!” said Enjolras with a sad laugh but in his expression had returned the same look of unwavering determination and resolution that had enticed Grantaire since the very beginning. The steady gaze of courage and mesmerizing strength that bled into everything he did in his life shone from his eyes once more and he was the powerful leader again. It only made Grantaire want him with even more desperation. “There is so much happening at the moment. There is so much at stake. I need to be who everyone expects me to be… who everyone needs to be. I have to lead… to get things started… accomplished. I can’t be losing sight of the goal.”

“Oh Enj, you don’t have to fight every second of your life! And don’t look at me like that, I may be cynical about a lot of things but you know I will always follow you and support you, no matter what. I know the fight is important to you but you are allowed to just be a man as well as a leader. The guys won’t think any less of you.”

“But it’s going to be intense when it starts and we’re going to have to fight hard… We might lose citizens along the way… I might not…” Enjolras struggled to say the words but he didn’t need to go on; with a sobering jolt, Grantaire knew exactly what he meant and it suddenly became clear that it wasn’t himself that Enjolras was trying to protect.

“Hey, nothing is going to happen to you,” said Grantaire, clutching Enjolras’s hands with his own. “Nothing, you hear? I will personally rip apart anyone who even tries to hurt you.”

Enjolras couldn’t help but smile. “You know, I think that’s the most passion I’ve ever heard in your voice?”

“You aint seen nothing yet,” Grantaire teased with a playful grin and pressed his mouth to Enjolras’s once more.

A light returned to Enjolras’s eyes and Grantaire felt his insides somersault at the sight of it because he knew what it meant. It was the same look he had when he was talking about the revolution. Passion. Always passion. It was one of the many things Grantaire loved about him and now here was a little slice of it that was reserved just for him.

Enjolras took the hand that was still clasped in his to his mouth, lightly kissed the knuckles and began to lead him back out into the moonlight. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

As he began to lead him away, Enjolras glanced back over his shoulder and smiled. “It’s not far to your place remember?”

END


End file.
